Eric Forman: A Besmirchment
by OmNomNomAttack
Summary: Eric's having second thoughts about leaving for Africa. Warnings: Angst. Pairings: Eric/Donna Part Three of: Underneath that Tough Exterior


In a dank and dingy basement, the walls grey and khaki patched, rough, and ever so slightly painful to the touch. On the left, a row of washers and dryers, shelves full of cleaning products, and a large freezer, which, at this time, contained a Christmas ham that went unneeded. A piece of lone mistletoe hung from the banister of a rickety set of stairs. To the left of the stairs was an opening, which lead to another back room, which at this time, was dormant. On the other side of the room sat a shower, full of cases of beer and to the left of that, a door that lead to a set of stairs outside.

This whole area created a backdrop for a young man, aged around 19, sitting on the grey stone floor in front of a yellow lounge, duct tape and fraying patches coating it like the layer of dust settling on top. The man sits with a grey, plastic case, shaped like '_The Millennium Falcon' _which could hold a whole set of action figures. He holds up a little Darth Vader action figure to the light:

_A long time ago, in a galaxy much like this basement -_

Eric Forman sighed and packed Darth Vader back in his place on the Millennium Falcon. Shutting the lid, he puts the grey carry case into his suitcase, smiling slightly, knowing he could_, at least_, take this. His thoughts turned to Donna, and something caught in his throat.

It was only two days until his plane left for Africa. _Two days _until he left the love of his life behind. He now understood it when people in movies and shows had to choose between love and their career - and he didn't even have a career yet. He teased his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked at the old and ratty couch, remembering…

He and Donna, play fighting on the couch, she would always end up winning. He captures her hands in his own, looks into her perfect brown eyes and feels himself melt. He tells her he loves her. She smiles ever so slightly, her radiant red hair swishing around her face - _how could he do this to her?_ He thought to himself.

How could he leave her at the alter? He loved her, damn it! He tried to tell himself that he loved her, another part of him told the other he was fooling himself. Even Kelso -_Kelso _- said Jackie and Hyde were a safer bet than he and Donna. No! He loved her, damn it! Nothing could keep them apart.

And he looks at the couch, tears brimming in his eyes as he sits on the stone floor, alone. He was leaving them all behind. His memories. His family. His friends. His love. He didn't know how much it would hurt. It hurt more than the vaccine needles and he didn't even expect it.

It crippled him, every inch was closing around him. In the spot where he sat, he had watched Fez and Kelso wrestle over the last fudgcicle, ending only when Fez turned Kelso's stun gun against him. Eric stood, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. Walking behind the TV, he was looking around for any loose socks or underwear - in the exact spot where Red had found out about Hyde stealing cable; he threatened to drill a hole in Hyde's ass with his foot and it made for a hilarious story after.

Eric couldn't help but look at the lounge again, resigning himself to the 'reminiscent' stage of leaving, finally knowing how Donna felt when she went to leave for Madison. On that very couch, Donna (wearing that _amazing_ Catholic School Uniform) and himself had caught Jackie and Hyde making out. After he got over the disgust, Eric really started to see just how happy the two made each other - not happy, less pissed off.

There was the Stupid Helmet, which also brought Kelso a lot of glory. Why was it even the stupid helmet? His friends were always putting him down… He guessed it was just their way… Why did it have to be like that? No, he didn't want a flock of 'Charlie's as friends, but they could have been nicer.

To be fair, would anyone truly nice put up with him?

Donna did.

Donna's not perfect.

She is to him.

So why is he leaving?

He shakes himself of his thoughts and looks around the room, over to the freezer where Jackie would often sit, where Kelso and Fez would often snack, where his dear mother would struggle lifting festive roasts. Oh, his mother. She loved him, she always did. He relied on her and she relied on him - when Lorrie wasn't there, which she usually wasn't. But his mother did so much, how could he just leave her -

No. He again, shook himself, this time mentally and physically, looking around the room in dejected fascination as he relived himself. Every aspect had its own story, there was no place he hadn't been in this room, his batcave.

How many times had Fez burst through the door announcing something weird, or wearing something weirder. Let him not be reminding of the Frankenfurter costume that Halloween. How often had Red almost caught them with a stash after walking through that door - what about when they dropped oatmeal on him?

It hit Eric like a ton of brick, he crumpled onto the couch, sobbing and clutching at his Ultra Rare Darth Vader with the Green Lightsabre. He never really realised how much his father meant to him, for everything that Eric did, his father was still fair in his punishments and not too out of line.

And yet Eric still ruined the image his mother and father had built in a few measly years of boozing and smoking. Now it was too late. No-one knew him in Africa, he couldn't make up for anything there. But wishes don't change what is real.


End file.
